


whatever happened to making sense

by Antartique



Series: Senyuu. drabbles/AUs [2]
Category: Senyuu.
Genre: Also counts as stockholm AU in a way, Gen, The demon AU that will never be finished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:02:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5108816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antartique/pseuds/Antartique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some reason, the young prince Sion gets kidnapped by a group of rebels hiding underground lead by a traitor he wants to kill very bad right now- except the traitor isn't really the leader, and the leader is... a really cute guy. Who is also a demon. Who could probably free the country from the tyranny of Rchimedes, the Elder. </p><p>Sion feels he needs to fix his priorities. Right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	whatever happened to making sense

It had been seven days since he had arrived the rebel's _sanctuary_ -headquarters, really- and, so far, he still hadn't met whoever was at the head of their stupid, surprisingly horizontal organization.

He had met lots of people, though. The old King's daughter, the could-be Princess Hime, liked spending her free time in some far and forgotten corner of the ruins looking for magical alloys and scraps of metal for whatever it was her maid, Ares, did. The commander of some or other rebel squad, Foyfoy, whose only duty seemed to be yelling orders at whoever was closer before mooning over his sister. Said sister, Marl, who was always clutching a few books in her tiny hands and staring to where the sun would be, had they not been underground; the moment she would sense him close, she would smile at him and disappear somewhere.

The siblings, he had long decided, where familiar from somewhere... But then again, everyone here seemed to know who he was and exactly what his relationship with Emperor Rchimedes was, had the glances he had gotten from the lesser members of the rebellion been any hint.

Elf had probably told everyone who didn't know and need to know about his blood legacy. He hadn't had the chance to speak to the traitor just yet, but when he did... He had seen him, alright, often times walking carefully into the lowest part of the ruins together with an smartly dressed black haired man (Teufel Diabolos, his mind supplied from what he had heard inside the walls), preparing whatever it was he was planning to do, destroy, whatever.

He didn't trust Elf November's plans at all, specially not with the smell of sulfur that clung to him like a cloak whenever he came back and vanished upstairs into the sunlight. Whatever it was that he was doing hidden from everyone but Teufel, it couldn't be any better than what his father had done all those years ago to summon their ancestor from the depths of hell.

He shuddered, remembering the fire and circles and _blood and bodies that are needed_ , _Blood of the Heir, Body of the Vessel, Voice of the Consort_ \--

The smell of copper and sulfur that was so clearly demon approached his door, lighter and more subdued than that of Rchimedes' own, and there was a knock on the door.

He still hadn't solved the mystery that was Alba Frühling, who he had seen trying to balance a tray in one hand while both twisting the key and opening the door at the same time a few times already. From the whispers past the door, he knew there was someone trying to help the poor boy, but he hadn't been here seven days for nothing. Alba was terrible at giving up.

The door opened and he came inside, smiling, looking human yet feeling all _wrong_. The limits of his body seemed to twist, reach out and then inside, giving it a hazy look to the trained eye, fading yet completely physical at the same time. The shadows around him wrapped in a wide arc, as if not quite knowing where or how to shape the projection because there was no projection to project at _all_. The air around him trembled, being pushed away and sucked up again, coming out twisted and wrong and-

Rchimedes, the Second, and Honey were the same, but also not. They shaped the world around them to fit, using whatever they could use to manifest in the humanoid way they presented themselves. They were _here_ , but not physically, unlike their little daughters who had been born in the human world and were closer to Rchimedes the First's existence than their parents.

Rchimedes... was different. He existed here: he had sent his soul into his willing descendant (named the same, because their family was stupid), while leaving his rotting body behind. His magic was divided between his legacy and those who had accepted it since ages ago, so his new body had accepted it easily. He belonged here. He didn't need to fix anything to be here.

Yet Alba...

He placed his tray down and, around his wrists, Sion could see the glint of metal. Some sort of silver or iron alloy, if he was a demon, to chain him to the world and his summoner; some sick fetish of whoever was running this place if the boy turned out to be human and only hosting huge ammounts of magic. There was a little blood sigil painted carefully on the back of his hand, which Sion didn't recognize at all (maybe Rchimedes would, but both of them were back at the capital, and he was stuck here playing house with rebels), and another near the tip of his ring finger. That was new.

"It is lunch time! If you're wondering. I know it is a little hard to tell the time when underground."

"It would help if I wasn't underground." Today's lunch seemed to be meat. Wow. He was being treated like a king.

"Aah, can't do anything about that, really." Alba laughed, then looked serious for a few seconds. "If it helps, I'm deeper down than you... But, I'm not a prisoner!"

* * *

It had been a few weeks, but Elf and whoever else commanded this place had finally deemed him trustworthy enough to be allowed free roaming around the ruins. Alba had whispered the news to him, grinning mischeviously, before asking what he wanted to see first.

"Sunlight," was the only answer he could give, as it had been weeks since he had last since a glimpse of it. Light here was produced by candles or magic spheres, fake and dim lights he had gotten used to after a while but would never be able to replace the real thing.

Alba smiled, as if he had said the one true answer, and that was enough for him to know he would enjoy his trip to the surface. He could meet the commander or whoever later, right now he wanted a few moments of freedom.

With the key to his prison room in hand and a big, butcher knife-like sword strapped to his back, Foyfoy acted as his escort back to the outside world. His face was set in an almost blank expression, even when Hime yelled at him from down the hall and Elf hopped around him to take the keys away.

Foyfoy lead him across crumbled staircases and collapsed halls, around huge links of chain and archways leading nowhere, past nameless rebels who greeted them carelessly and faded in the darkness. Once or twice, the scent of _demon_ would appear close to them, only to vanish soon after without explanation.

And then there was light.

The ruins, in the outside, were even greater than they seemed from inside. A great expanse of broken white buildings, some towers standing on their own will, others looking as though they would crumble to dust at a single touch. It was a whole city of ruins, an underground labyrinth and so much history, he couldn't believe he hadn't recognized it before.

The sound of rattling chains came from behind him and he turned around on the spot, Originia's main plaza coming to view. The great archway where his ancestor was said to have come out for the first time, all those centuries ago, stood right there in front of him, split in half and unusable; near it, struggling with what seemed to be his own weight in chains, was Alba.

Foyfoy snorted, quickly going over to help the other, and Sion followed. He was under the sun and it wasn't like he didn't know how to deal with weird demon things like contract chains and other weird things. Besides, he didn't know if he _could_ walk another way without any of the people watching from close by attacking him immediately.

"Why _are_ you outside, anyways," asked Foyfoy, tugging on a chain link that seemed to loop on itself a few times before attaching directly to Alba's wrist. The metal was blood gold, the color of Elf's magic, and _burnt_ his hand if he tried to touch it. "Shouldn't you be staring at little runes and giant books?"

"But Sion-san wanted to come out-," his voice hitched up and vanished into a whimper when Foyfoy pulled hard at one link and threw the attached chain into the sunlight. The link melted, stretched and shaped itself again to lengthen the chain, and Sion knew if he followed it, it would lead him back downstairs straight into Elf November's hands. "Besides, we haven't been outside in a while, Foyfoy!"

"I won't be staying outside if you are here." Foyfoy passed Alba the keys then, without a care for the wince of pain and something else from him, took a bunch of chains and threw them to Sion. "Have things to do-"

"Like take care of the wife-"

" _Relevant_ things, Alba, unlike _you_ -"

"Everything I do is relevant-"

"Go back to prison-"

"I have _never_ been to-"

Without thinking, Sion selected a chain and tugged, hard, awfully pleased when Alba's eyes widened and his hand reached for his throat. Foyfoy threw him a _glance_ before leaving, into some ruins and downstairs.

And then he was left with a demon who didn't seem to know if to smile at him or be terrified of him, for he kept pulling back at his chains, trying to recover them, smiling uneasily and laughing awkwardly and damn it.

"So, Originia?" He asked, giving back all but one of the chains. He wanted to look around and he wasn't going to let go of this kindly borrowed guide.

Alba snorted, and whatever was hiding in his space laughed in a mournful tone, making the air tremble and twist and flee in the vague direction of the broken arch. "Took you a while to recognize it. Didn't your people live here?"

"Not underground, no. And usually, the tales tell of a statue of Creasion glowing in glory somewhere around, so no, pardon me for not recognizing it, Mister Rebel."

"The grave is a bit farther up, if you want to go look at it," Alba pointed in a vague direction, where Sion could see another broken archway and a cliff. "Asides from that, we don't keep any of the supposed war's markers around, they were destroyed centuries ago--"

"When my people went into hiding, yeah, I know."

He didn't remember much of the whole thing past 'Rchimedes, our ancestor, was summoned by a pair of brothers who wanted their father back. Instead, they got a being so powerful, he would have destroyed the demons' world had he stayed there, so he aimed for taking over the world of humans.' It was supposed to have happened in Originia, but really... Creasion's, the youngest child, body was said to be buried here, Sion had a duty as a long, long removed family member to visit him.

Crea would laugh at him if he heard him. 'You, worried about _dead_ _people_? Who are you and what have you done with Shii-tan!?' And then he would roll on one bed of their shared bedroom, laughing loudly and making the whole room glow in silverish magic.

That was the past, though. The current Crea would laugh, would roll, but their rooms were no longer shared, his magic no longer silver and he didn't even call him _Shii-tan_. Crea, arms covered in blood and little runes, would probably tell him it would be great if Creasion could come back to tell them how to do anything about Rchimedes' stupid magic.

Crea didn't mind their ancestor taking over part of his mind and magic to manifest in the human world. Rchimedes (his father, his human father) hadn't minded their ancestor almost destroying his soul and consciousness, tainting his magic to nest inside his body. Lake minded, a little bit, but he didn't really care as long as Sol didn't get expossed to the sheer corruption that was the demon.

And then Sion, Sion minded. He minded a lot. Because his best friend and cousin, his father, his brother; because his family had given away their lives for power and he hated it, hated not being strong enough.

He had been kidnapped, damn it, kidnapped by rebels lead by a mysterious force who seemed to study by Creasion's own books, a rebellion who seemed to have known what would happen before it even happened. And that was just a little bit scary.

He noticed Alba was staring, and pulled at the chain, ignoring the _something_ inside him that told him to pull harder, be harsher; he pulled at the chain and Alba held his breath, leaned in an inch, and he smirked when he saw the chain's glow go from gold to blue for a few seconds.

Damn.

"So, the grave?"

He wanted answers, and if those answers involved a really powerful (and cute) demon following behind him like a leashed pet, so be it.

* * *

He didn't know how long it had been, now. Outside expeditions were rare, often guarded by Alba or Foyfoy, and inside exploring was even rarer as he didn't want to be inside any longer.

Today, however, he was finally allowed to meet the Leader of these so called rebels who, for some or other reason, wanted to directly ask some questions about some or other Empire layout thing. He didn't even care right now, all he knew was a) he would meet the Leader and b) that's all.

Both Elf and Teufel, reeking of blood and sulfur like always, lead him downstairs, past their quarters and even lower. There was a small archway with painted runes where a teenager with black hair painted even more runes, and though Sion wanted to ask, Teufel immediately dragged him down the stairs.

Three or four flights of broken or makeshift stairs later, the three finally found themselves before a huge iron door -demon, it screamed, past here is a demon; Sion wanted to believe that the rebels were at least lead by a human-. Elf took a step forward, making a huge show of spinning on his toes and placing a hand on the door, grinning.

"I hope you're ready, Sion!"

"He is really anxious." Teufel's monotone voice flew from the other half of the door and, at the same time, the both of them pushed them open.

Inside was a room fit for a king, or maybe an Emperor, as the room was the size of Rchimedes' own sleeping quarters. He couldn't see the ceiling; or, he could, but it was covered in shadows, so he couldn't tell how high it was. The shadows were everywhere, wrapping around the walls and floor and furniture in small tendrils and big blankets; reaching for him, embracing him in their cold, cold arms before pulling back, then reaching for Elf and Teufel and hugging them like old friends and-

Did he feel _jealous_? About a demon's limbs hugging other pe- wait.

Well.

Alba Frühling sat on a small cot, shirtless, surrounded by even more shadows and towers of books: open books, closed books, grimoires marked with small pieces of gold and fabric; books floating, held by shadows, with small blinking eyes staring at them. Small, blinking, gold and red eyes.

He took a step back.

He wanted to run.

But then all the floating eyes -which weren't actually floating, as they were attached to shadows, which were attached to _Alba_ \- were locked on him, staring. They narrowed, widened, _teared up_ and vanished into themselves, into the little vacuum in space where matter couldn't exist because, apparently, Alba existed.

And then, there was only Alba and himself.

The giant, iron doors closed behind Elf and Teufel, and Sion _knew_ Alba had been lying whenever he said he was not a prisoner. What kind of free person was a demon behind an iron gate?

What kind of human was able to bring a demon like _this_ to their realm?

He didn't know how long they were staring at each other, but it was longer than Alba was comfortable with. He brought his- his limbs to cover himself, making a tattered cloak that resembled Rchimedes' -the Second's- own clothes; apparently that was enough to trigger whatever mechanism Elf had put in place, for the golden chains appeared and vanished... into the ceiling, which was now visible.

The room wasn't that big. It just _seemed_ big, because it _housed a Shade demon bigger than Rchimedes -the Ancestor- himself._

"Fucking Hell."

* * *

"And that's it." Alba finished his story, his hands playing with the chains that seemed to be always, always attached to him (Sion had been trying to turn them all blue, but they stayed blue for just a few seconds). "Sorry we kidnapped you, but it was necessary for... for everything- Well not you, it could have been anyone, b-"

"You are human."

"I am _telling you_ , _**yes**_. That my body looks l-"

"You are _human_." Sion was, not in shock, more like in an unbelieving suspension of all things. He had been staring at the shadows, limbs, that twirled on the floor while Alba spoke, ever since he had said he was human.

He was human, and he had a huge body mass made of shadows and eyes.

He was _human_ , and he couldn't go past iron.

He was _**human**_.

"Are you even _listening to what I'm saying_?" Alba seemed to be growing tired, exhasperated, as the shadows writhed and poofed out of existance before appearing somewhere else, closer than before. Sion unconsciously pulled his legs onto the cot. "Okay, okay, apparently you aren't, so I will just, just scream **REALLY LOUD**."

"DON'T do that. Okay, okay, I believe you," _not_. He held his hands up to calm down the... human... whose loud voice had apparently been enough to make a dozen or so eyes appear out of nowhere, open and start glowering. Clearly, Alba had no real control of his body. "So. So you're human. And you lead this weird group of rebels and act like the maid at times-"

"Ares and her team are the maids. I lead. Were you really listening?"

By this point things had grown past ridiculous and into scary territory. Sion was used to dealing with demons, because, hey, his ancestors _were_ demons, but _this_? This was too much.

There were little limbs starting to open the door.

Little, apparently flesh-and-blood limbs. Pushing open a full iron door.

He fainted.

* * *

Elf the Traitor November and the teenager that had been drawing runes on the archway were there when he woke up. Said teenager promptly slapped him, almost in hysterics, yelling about ' _making Alba de-summon himself, de gozaru!_ _'_ and was that even possible?

Could demons have so much control over their own pacts they could _de-summon_ themselves?

"Wait, what?"

"You fainted," Elf explained, patting the teenager's head, who now was sitting on the only chair, whimpering, "Alba panicked and decided to vanish. It happens, but I hadn't seen it in a while... What happened, anyways?"

Sion could see the small chains in Elf's hands twirling and darting to random directions, probably looking for whatever it was they were supposed to attach themselves to. They were... really small; when on Alba they were way bigger. He really hadn't seen that. Ever.

"We were talking-"

"Figured as much!"

"And then there were... little hands..."

They were quiet for a little while, Elf staring at him and then at the chains, the teenager staring at the chains then at him. And then he burst out laughing.

"You fainted over _hands_?" He seemed to be so amused he forgot his _de gozaru_ thing, it was annoying. "Over Alba's hands?"

"They were opening the door!"

"Of course they can open the door! Everyone can open a door!"

For some reason, he felt the boy would finish that sentence with 'if they are manly enough'. Where had he heard that before...

He decided to drop it. For some reason, he felt speaking with this boy would be meaningless, and Elf wasn't talking at all, instead playing with his chains like they were the best thing ever.

He looked around the room. Alba really _did_ live like some prisoner, even though his room was the biggest he had seen in the whole ruins. Besides the books, there was _nothing_. There were even some jail bars to one side, though half were broken and bent out of shape, dividing half the room... and then he figured out.

These were the dungeons.

The leader of the rebels lived in the _dungeons_.

He started laughing.

* * *

Alba -'s hands- was now waking him up every day, forcing him to get up and downstairs, every single day, to talk about the world. And plans. And many things.

He had been convinced to give up his knowledge of the Central Library layout after the teenager with the _de gozaru_ tic had told him about the rare, impossible-to-cast bond breaking magic that was supposed to be hiding down there. It was supposed to be Creasion's magic. He wasn't even sure he cared anymore.

After that, half the ruins had been emptied, which lead to boredoom, which lead to Alba being even more needy for attention than normal.

He had gotten used to the tiny, shadow hands and the smell of sulfur and blood waking him up, clinging to him like a cape. He had also managed to turn some of Alba's chains blue, much to Elf's anger and Janua's surprise.

Speaking of Janua -the teenager with the tic-, he was once again painting runes, in a different archway, while Sion watched. Teufel was also up a ladder, trembling hands painting another set of runes in pure white magic, so he figured they were doing something important.

"They will be back today," Elf said, skipping down the staircases, his magic making as platforms for him to walk safely. "We should have a feast!"

Teufel nodded absentmindedly and Janua dropped his brush, shrieking something about cats and manliness before rushing back upstairs. Sion just looked at the brush, noticing for the first time it had blood on it.

Blood runes and magic runes, on an archway. What were they doing?

He closed his book, putting it away into a shadow, where he knew Alba -or some piece of him- would pick it up and return it to its proper place. Alba was somewhere down below, apparently, for Elf continued his merry skipping, this time with Sion trailing behind.

Passing the rune archway was... interesting. Surprisingly heavy, as if walking past a wall of water, or something denser. He guessed it had something to do with demons, as Elf just walked past it as if nothing, and his own demon blood wouldn't be strong enough to hold him back from crossing it.

The archways were everywhere, though.

Where they trying to keep Alba in?

Keep others demons out?

Alba was in his dungeon, curled up around a few books, his human body napping away somewhere in the mass of shadows. The eyes blinked lazily at them, trembling a bit, before focusing back on the books, gathering them up and drawing back to the walls and ceiling. Well, they didn't pull into themselves as they had been doing for the past times Sion saw them.

It was progress.

Elf hummed happily, snapping his fingers, making the whole load of magic chains appear of sudden. Alba lost his balance, falling atop the chains, but continued sleeping as if the chains were the most comfortable thing in the world.

"Alba! Wake up!"

Elf ran ahead, kneeling besides the mass of chains, shaking Alba weakly. His free hand brushed the blue chains, turning them back gold for a few seconds, and Sion saw red.

He felt his magic burning under his skin, painful, as he watched Elf pick up Alba and his load of chains bridal style. He didn't know if time was skipping, speeding or slowing down around him, but something was happening with his magic, alright.

And then he saw Elf _kiss_ Alba, soft and lovingly, and time stopped.

Sion let time stay frozen for a few seconds, as he took two deep breaths, and then went to snatch Alba away from his, his summoner, or whatever Elf was (if he was, then he was breaching a contract, and he would destroy him, painfully).

He ignored Elf's laughter when time went back on its track, as he was already way past the door and quite a few stair steps away.


End file.
